


Cresit Eundo (it grows as it goes)

by Lyl



Category: Doctor Who (2005), The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen, Time Travel, angsting together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyl/pseuds/Lyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd been many things in his life; a poster boy, a member of an elite police force, a lover, a hater, a carefree conman. Now he was just alone. Alone and lost. (Post Doomsday)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cresit Eundo (it grows as it goes)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going with the theory that Jack landed somewhere in North America when he jumped back to 1869. The title is the motto for the State of New Mexico, even though it didn't become a state until 1912.

Jack had seen them come into the saloon earlier, but hadn't given the bunch more than a quick glance that assessed their threat as minimal. All his attention was focussed on the sinking level of bourbon in the bottle in front of him. It was always a challenge to drink enough, and quickly enough, to get himself drunk before his fifty first century physiology had a chance to filter the alcohol out of his system. In the year 5050 that hadn't been so much of a problem, seeing as a good hypervodka or crystal whiskey cut through him like a sledgehammer. But he was in the late 1800's, and the liquor was nowhere near potent enough.

That was fine with him. It gave him a goal to strive towards.

His life since the Game Station had been on long, lonely stretch of existence, and this small task was all he found he could manage. He'd stupidly waited around in the future for five long months, hoping for that familiar _vroomp-vroomp_ sound and the appearance of an impossible blue box he'd called home. Yet each day had hammered away at his hope, even as his anger and frustration grew. Until he finally admitted that he'd been left behind – abandoned by his family.

Ever since he'd landed in Utah in 1869, the memories had been replaying themselves in his mind all day and all night. He couldn’t travel far enough to escape the memories, though in the past few years he had certainly tried. Alcohol, and lots of it, seemed to be the only way to fuzz them out enough.

Some days he felt like he was going crazy, and some days he wondered if he wasn't already.

Today was a bit of both. So really, he could be forgiven for not noticing the arrival of a large and rambunctious group of mismatched men, all of them fairly well armed (though really, who wasn't in this era). But he did notice when one of them sat himself down at Jack's table and poured himself a shot out of Jack's own bottle.

Jack was really in no mood to deal with the local denizens of this backwater, so settled for a hard glare as he finished off the last of his drink.

The stranger was definitely a gunslinger – he'd picked up the local slang fairly quickly, even without a TARDIS to translate– dressed all in black and looking far too comfortable at Jack's table.

“You look like a man on a mission,” said the interloper. Jack just poured himself another glass.

The silence grew thick and heavy between the two of them as the minutes dragged on, neither willing to break first.

“It doesn't help.” Jack looked up to see the man tilt his head towards the bottle, but didn't bother to do anything more than blink slowly. Being stranded in this time, on this planet, had hit him hard in so many ways. He'd been many things in his life; a poster boy, a member of an elite police force, a lover, a hater, a carefree conman. A friend, part of a family. Now he was just alone. Alone and lost.

“This won't bring them back,” continued the other man, holding up his half-empty glass. “It won't even make you forget.”

“You don't know anything about me,” Jack replied, his lip curling in derision.

“I know when a man's trying to fill or forget that empty void inside, because living with it is just too hard.” Jack kept silent, but continued to watch and listen. There was something compelling behind those eyes, telling him that maybe, just maybe, this man understood what it was like to suddenly find yourself adrift after losing your family.

Though Jack bet this man's family hadn't left him by way of a blue police box after saving the Earth.

In some ways Jack wished that the Doctor had died, instead of just abandoning him in the future. Death, he could mourn and move on from, but being abandoned and forgotten just left anger and rage behind. Those didn't go away easy.

“Who are you?” asked Jack after a minute. He didn't like to drink with someone he didn't know.

“Name's Chris. Larabee. ” He sent Jack a look that asked him to return the favour. Apparently Jack wasn't the only one who didn't like to drink with strangers. “I’m the law in these parts.” Well, that certainly explained why Jack had an uninvited guest at his table. Towns like these had small populations, and everyone knew everyone else. Drifters and travellers were common, but a new face that stuck around for more than a day or two was always a worry for a lawman, and Jack couldn’t begrudge Larabee this pre-emptive strike. Especially if the new face made a habit of drowning his memories in bourbon and whiskey on a nightly basis.

Jack took another slow drink, buying himself some time to think. “Jack. Jack Harkness,” he answered   
finally. He'd never bothered to set up an identity for himself in this era, mostly because it was a useless endeavour. There was no technology to speak of beyond simple moving parts, so identity was based on who you said you were.

He'd wondered whether or not he should change his name; start a new life with a new identity. In the end, he decided to stick with a name that had served him well. He couldn't – wouldn't – go back to who he was while working for the Time Agency. When he'd left them, he'd left everything he was behind, including his name. He'd had many names before, but none were as memorable as the one he carried now. Captain Jack Harkness the con man was long dead and buried, erased as soon as he’d boarded the TARDIS. Being Captain Jack, friend and companion to Rose and the Doctor as they travelled through time and space, had been the best part of his life. He became a better person around them, and had the time of his life. 

But that era had ended with Daleks and screams, part of a world that was both years and a lifetime away. Maybe now it was time to see who this new Jack Harkness was.

“Well, Jack Harkness, take it from me. You can't keep running from your past, especially if you carry it with you,” said Larabee. Jack looked at the other man, and was captivated by the look in his eyes. Experience was a harsh mistress, but it taught its lessons well.

Drinking and trying to outrun your memories was no way to live, let alone exist.

“What made you stop?” Jack asked, feeling himself becoming more sober with every second.

“Found them,” Larabee said, motioning with his head to the overly loud table full of mismatched men. They were rowdy and excited, but obviously friends. The one in the bright red jacket was trying to entice an older man into a game of cards while a third, dark skinned man laughed and jeered from beside him. Another man was playing a game of keep-away with the hat of the youngest of the group, while the boy yelled and tried to wrestle the bigger man into giving him his hat back. The sixth member of the group was dressed all in buckskin with his back to the corner, watching the men around him with a small, amused smile on his face. When he wasn't looking over to watch Larabee's back, that was.

 

Jack turned his head back to Larabee and raised an eyebrow in exaggerated concern. “Oh, yeah. They're 'special' alright.”

“They're good men,” replied Larabee, as if that was the only thing that mattered. And Jack guessed that it did. In this time and place, having six good men around, who you trusted with you life, was as good as gold.

“You'll find something,” said Larabee, turning his attention back to Jack. “And when you do, grab on to it with both hands. Life ain't worth livin' otherwise.”

“So this is New Mexico, right?” asked Jack, dredging up what he knew of ancient North American geography. “I've always wanted to visit, but never found the opportunity to make it to your lovely state.”

Larabee looked at his strangely. “Territory?” Jack tried again, plastering his patented 'I'm an idiot tourist – humour me' smile on his face. “Colony?”

“You're not from around here, are you?”

“You have no idea,” replied Jack, smiling his million dollar smile for the first time in over two years.

The ache in his heart was still present, but maybe a little less sharp. It would do for now.


End file.
